So What do you do around here to stave off the, you know, self harm?
by retired-fangirl
Summary: [Quote from S05E07 Amy's Choice] In which the Doctor's self hatred manifests in physical self harm.
1. Interrogation Foreplay

Disclaimer: I do not own any aspects of Doctor Who, though it's probably best since I'm likely to bastardize the character for my own twisted needs. Heh.

A/N This is my first ever Doctor Who fanfiction, so I hope you enjoy!

**Trigger warning for self injury.**

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Chapter 1: Interrogation Foreplay

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River leans into the Doctor, a smile curling at her lips as she whispers, "I'd like to see you try." She presses herself against his body, hips aligning in the loveliest way as her body reacts to the familiarity of the position. She knows this is one his firsts; one of her lasts. He does not try to squirm out of her reach as she presses her lips against his, demanding only to trail off into sweetness. He gasps and she plunges her tongue in.

The Doctor reacts with as much enthusiasm as River. Definitely not his first. "Well, yeah, but what if I do?" he breathes out when the kiss ends, resting his head upon her forehead. They both pant in sync, for a moment, this moment, River Song and the Doctor, the Doctor and River Song, are traveling in the same direction.

She runs her finger along the length of his tweed coat, from down to up, to caress his bowtie. She smiles as he shudders and shivers under the light touches. Patting his thigh, circumventing where she know he wants attention, and she strokes, instead, at his fingers. She crosses her ankle around his, separating his legs and supporting his trembling weight. One knee at his groin and he groans into her mouth, sending arousal to the edges of her nerves. Not his first, but certainly one of _his_ firsts.

The realization guides her forward, enticing her to help the inexperienced (this version of him was naive as well, adding another layer of eroticism) Doctor along. She kisses him again, tenderly, mouths locking, and she can feel him straining in his trousers. Her hands move of their own volition, returning to his jacket. Her fingers explore under the rough fabric, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves…

"River!" He gasps out, pulling away from her and their embrace. She feels cold as she searches his face for answers to his reaction. "I can't, I—" His admission cuts off. She notices the fear lighting up is eyes, the shivers replaced by nerves. The aching between her legs diminishes as she takes in the genuine panic splayed in his features.

She rests a hand on his clothed arm. "Sweetie?"

"It's…" As he struggles to find words—an excuse, River realizes—his mannerisms regress to the awkwardness of the earlier days of this incarnation. He shrugs whilst keeping both arms tucked safely inwards and hands slipped into trouser pockets. His countenance is that of a little boy shamed for nicking one too many sweets. "Ah." He runs a hand through his hair, before hastily returning his arm to his side. "It's nothing to do with you, I mean… You're great, it's just…"

River almost smirks at the blush staining his cheeks and the semi softened bulge still tenting at his trousers. She is aware just how much the Doctor wants this. But what is holding him back? She frowns. She gently traces the outline of his jacket sleeve; he flinches, and her eyes narrow. "What are you hiding?" It's more of a statement, rather than a question. She demands; she intends to wrench the answer from him.

His features harden as her hands linger at his arms, and when the Doctor speaks again the words are clipped. "Think nothing of it." He scoots out of her gaze, using the wall he had been pressed against minutes earlier as propulsion. His eyes are downcast, and his teeth threaten to bore a hole in his lip.

Concerns coils down her stomach. "What?" Her voice increases as she follows his exit out of their shared room. "What do you mean? Get back here!"


	2. The Talk, Interrupted

A/N: little jess: Thank you for reviewing! Positive reviews never fail to make me smile. ^_^

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Chapter 2: The Talk, Interrupted

He dashes through the corridors in the TARDIS, and she is at his heels when they barge down the metal steps of the control room. Amy is swinging slightly in the jump chair as Rory sits next to her on the ground. They look up through the glass floor under the main controls as two sets of feet clang against metal.

The doctor works at the controls, twisting knobs and pushing buttons Amy and Rory, almost a year later, can't quite identify all of their purposes and yanks the lever up. "Where are we going?" Amy asks, poking her head out.

"Nowhere," River says. She crosses her arms at the Doctor.

In reply, he tilts the screen down so Amy and Rory can clearly see. Amy jumps up and Rory trails behind her, up to the main floor. It reads well into the 51rst century. "Stormcage?" Rory asks.

"I'm not going anywhere," River says to the Doctor. Her eyes soften. "I'm not leaving you like this." In the history of their asynchronous relationship, she learned not to leave the Doctor after an altercation. She never knew which version of her Doctor to expect—worse, the ramifications of stumbling, seething with anger, upon a Doctor she hadn't had the fight with yet.

"Back to Stormcage, River." He's not looking at River, her face darkening, or Amy and Rory, both watch the argument with confusion blatantly splayed on their faces, but down at the controls of the TARDIS. His fingers tremble as he forces them into fists.

"Mum, Dad, I think you should leave." River rests a hand on the Doctor's shoulders. They're shaking beneath the layers of clothes. Rory nods immediately and beckons Amy to follow him.

"What's going on?" Amy steps further into the argument. When the Doctor fails to meet her gaze, she prods, "Doctor? Raggedy Man?" She averts her narrowed eyes to River. "Melody?"

River faces Amy at the use of her former name. She smiles, hoping the gesture will lighten her tone.

"Amy, please." It's the use of her given name rather than the nicety of a maternal title that halts Amy's attempt. She stumbles—her vision clears, and she sees the Doctor barely repressing emotion—as Rory catches her arm. She lets her gaze linger on River, an attempt to encapsulate every iota of parental concern in one look, as Rory guides her up the same stairs the Doctor and River clanged down.

When dual footsteps walk down the hallway, and disappear into silence around a corner, River clenches her fingers into the Doctor's shoulders nails biting into tweed. "I'm not going anywhere, Doctor. Talk to me. What's wrong?"

He's bent over, clutching the edge of the control panel as if it is the only thing keeping him upright. His face is pale, and River can see beads of sweat forming on his forehead as she leans into him—an embrace of reassurance.

"Aurgh!" His hands slap noisily on random buttons. "Leave it be, River!"

"I can't." She wraps her arms around him, whispers into his ear. "Let me in."

He spins around, glares. "My future; your past. Don't you already know?" He smirks.

Her next words, like ice, freeze the smugness off his face. "_Yes_, sweetie."

Despite the sweat dribbling down his cheek, the Doctor shivers at the frost in her words. He never thought the euphemism could be spoken with so much antipathy. He scrunches his nose: an expression of curiosity despite the fear swirling molten hot in his belly. "You…do…?"

He braces himself for the inevitable slap, the angry words, the remonstration of his self, and he falters when nothing comes. He realizes the hands wrapped around him are trembling, and wetness soaks his undershirt. River's head is buried in his chest, and she is silently crying. The fear churns with guilt, worry, apprehension—a whole array of unpleasant emotions he usually distracts himself from with the next greatest valiant quest wherein he or one of his companions almost die. He's only ever seen River cry once before.

"I'm not dying," he says at last, as images of an older (but deceptively younger in appearance) Professor River Song saying goodbye with a solitary tear shed just before her sacrifice.

A crack, then sharp pinpricks flooding outwards from the point of impact, pain and heat well up on his cheek. There's the expected slap. River glowers up at him, her face wet with tears and eyes blazing ire. Her breath comes in ragged gasps. "You idiot." But her melancholy tone cannot convey anger, and he wants to squirm out of her grasp and run far away from this.

He almost sags in relief when he hears the familiar sound of the TARDIS landing (for an instant he is disappointed by River's lack of commentary on his 'driving abilities'). River's face, the drooping expression, the baleful parting of her lips in an unvoiced query, as she stares into his eyes nearly coerces him to roll up his sleeves and have this talk with her. Nearly.

He drags River by a hand to the front of the TARDIS amidst her protests and wide eyed accusation of betrayal. "When did you—"

"I'm sorry." He opens the door, gently pushing River towards the exit.

She flips their dynamic around, forcing him to step into the prison cell with her. "Don't do this, Doctor! You can't—"

His lips thin. He gives her one last sorrowful glance, then turns around and returns, shutting the navy blue door on her.


	3. Staving Off the Urge

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews, favs, and alerts guys! I can't believe how popular this story is (well, to my standards)!

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Chapter 3: Staving Off the Urge

He slumps against the TARDIS door for a quick respite, before dialing the coordinates to return to the time vortex with thoughtless precision after years of experience. His knees shake, and he finally allows himself to slide to the floor as the familiar sound of the time vortex opening hums in his ears—far enough away from River's crinkled eyes and pursed lips.

His fingers run through his hair, anger boiling over to tug at the longer strands. The Doctor looks at the raised welts criss-crossing his arms, eyes affixed to stare downwards at his bunched sleeves. Seeing the physical harm on his arms, he is struck with the yearning to drag something, anything, sharp into the thin skin of his humanoid body and watch red beads trickle down arms as everything trickled away…

"Amy!" He calls out to his current companion even before he leaps off the floor. "Rory, Amy!" Taking two steps at a time in haste, he runs up the stairs, and out into the corridors. "Time a'ticking. It's too nice of a day to spend cooped inside."

A door opens, and two worried faces greet him. "Weren't you just with River?" Rory asks. No one refutes his commentary on the potential weather as they glide smoothly through the time vortex, where weather is nonexistent.

Amy's eyes are scrutinizing him in a way he doesn't like, similar to River as she had traced the edges of his sleeved arm, fingers trailing too close to scabbed cuts for his comfort. He swallows the thought as Amy says, "You dropped her off, didn't you?"

Rory glances at Amy, at the sharpness behind her accusation, then returns his gaze to the Doctor. "Why would you do that? There's something wron—" Rory's hand on Amy's shoulder silences her tirade.

The Doctor forces his breath to remain level as his lungs demand oxygen. "You wanted to go out somewhere?" Rory asks, extending the peace offer and fastidiously looking in any direction but Amy's pinched expression, eyes narrowed and lips set in a thin line. Rory's hand remains firmly on Amy's shoulder as he suggests, "I always wanted to visit Japan."

In his relief at the idea of a trip anywhere outside of the TARDIS, away from his self destructive thoughts, the Doctor misses the pointed look Rory sends Amy. "Thought you were over that," Amy says. Her voice wobbles a tad at the end, but otherwise, she appears composed.

The Doctor returns his attention to the married couple just as Rory shoots Amy a withering gaze. "I was a kid," he defends himself. "It's not that weird."

Amy merely shakes her head. "You're not now. Face it, you're a weeaboo."

The Doctor is genuinely confused by the term. "Weeaboo?"

Amy grabs the Doctor by his arm leading him back to the control room of the TARDIS (he forces back a gasp behind clenched teeth). "Our Rory is obsessed with anime," she sing-songs.

Rory sighs from the rear but says nothing more.

"Where to?" The doctor spreads his arms wide when they all enter the control room. His cocky grin reminds them they can go virtually anywhere they want.

Rory flushes as he mumbles the timeline he opts to visit. Not understanding why Amy dissolves into hysterics, the Doctor shrugs and pulls the lever down. The TARDIS moves them through time and space relatively easily, and they land with a noisy sound of protest as he leaves the breaks on.

Rory has the door pulled open when the Doctor crosses the room. "Wait a minute," he says, nudging Rory out of the way to stick his head out the door. His features droop at the very normal and very dull scene in front of him. His mental complaint centers on the absolute drivel of prehistoric anywhere, regardless of what society, regardless of which planet—let alone galaxy. Life started in the most boring way plausible.

"Excited are we?" The humor in Amy's tone is the Doctor's only warning before he is shoved aside by Rory as he drags Amy behind him. They step out of the blue doors into an endless plain. Rory wrinkles his nose at the small herd of people in the distance. The landscape in Japan circa hundreds of years BC is right out of any history text he studied in his college extracurriculars.

Amy neatly steps past the Doctor and stares around at the humdrum of prehistory. "Were you expecting something else?"

"I don't think there is anything here," the Doctor says, silently reviewing any threats to the human race in this cluster of islands in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Until the advent of trade, he thinks Japan is safe (aside from the obvious threats of disease and death).

Amy smirks at him. "I don't think he's worried about aliens, Doctor."

Rory' shoulders are slumped when he turns towards the Doctor. "We can go somewhere else," he says in a bleak tone. After a moment's pause with no reaction (no quip laced in humor from Amy nor a tale of adventure forming as words on the Doctor's lips), Rory glances back at both offenders. "What?"

The Doctor looks up from the cuff of his undershirt where he had been staring intently. "One of my buttons is missing," he murmurs. He shrugs at them when he realizes their attention is at his clothed arm. "Well, not a problem. Want to try modern Japan, Rory?"

Rory's eyes light up, and the Doctor leads them back to the TARDIS, when a sudden crack of energy lights up the sky.

...

A/N: Weeaboo is generally a derogatory term for someone who is obsessed with Japan. In this story, Amy uses it a bit incorrectly, but it's supposed to have a negative connotation.


End file.
